Bernie's Bar
by CSIGregSanders
Summary: When three people you've got a crush on invite you to a bar with them, you go. Warrick/Greg/Nick/Grissom
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI 'DAMMIT!' Now that I've gotten that out, let's get on with the story.

CHAPTER ONE

Greg sighed as he tugged on his jacket. He grabbed his backpack from his locker before closing it. He knew he'd go home, eat, change into his pajamas, brush his teeth, and then crash. Only thing different from the rest of the week was that he wouldn't be setting his alarm. He'd been setting his alarm clock early to help Warrick and Nick catch someone killing innocent little children.

'Thank god it's over. I thought Nick was going to explode.' Greg thought, 'I hope he's okay. Blowing up would not be good for his hot bod.' Nick never did well with cases involving children. Well, no one did, but Nick always took it to heart.

"Greg!" Speak of the devil. Greg turned around to see a smiling Nick jog 'Why the freak isn't he tired!' up to him. "Hey, you wanna go out to Bernie's Bar with me, Warrick, and Gris?" he asked. Greg thought about it. 'Well, gee, go out with three hot dudes to a bar or go home and spend the weekend by myself . . . Hmm, which sounds better?'

You paying?" Greg asked and Nick's smile got a little bigger, his eyes crinkling.

"I guess I could pay. After all, you've been working overtime in the lab to help me and Rick with the case." Greg really had been all week, helping at any hour he could. He might only be a lab tech with spiky hair and a love for coffee, but Greg had wanted to catch this guy as much as Nick and Warrick had.

"Alright, I guess I'll meet you at Bernie's." Greg smiled, and the two walked out to their cars. Greg threw his back pack into the passenger seat and then followed Nick to Bernie's Bar. Warrick and Grissom were already seated in a booth with drinks. Gris was laughing, his head back and his body shaking. Greg was mesmerized. An amused Nick walked past the frozen lab tech. When Greg continued to stand there, wide-eyed, he grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him towards the table. Warrick saw the two first.

"Nick! Greg, it's good you're here! Nicky's paying!" At this, Greg nodded still stunned at the sight he had just seen. Well, that was until Grissom raised an eyebrow. 'God, I must look like an idiot,' Greg thought. He sat next to Warrick, as Nick had sat next to Grissom. Nick was outright laughing at him while Warrick was chuckling into his drink.

"What? I've never seen him laugh before!" Greg said incredulously. Warrick shook his head.

"Sure you have. There was . . . uh-" He broke off and stared into space. Clearing his throat he continued. "There was two years ago, actually, wait – uh, nevermind." Greg smiled a smug smile while Nick laughed. Grissom was smiling at Warrick, a knowing look on his face. Greg squished the urge to point and laugh. Instead, he took Warrick's glass, ignoring the man's batting hands and loud 'Hey!', and lifted the glass for a toast.

"Thank God it's Friday!" Greg slammed the shot back.

As Nick kept bringing drinks, the rest of the night got fuzzier. Currently, Greg had his head on Grissom's shoulder. 'Wait – that's weird . . .'

"Hey, Nick, when did we switch?" he asked. Nick chuckled and pulled Greg's drink away from him.

"I think that's enough for you, Greg."

"Oh, come on," he whined. "It's Friday, and I've got nuffin' to do tomorrow. Itsh boring at my plesh." An idea popped into Greg's head. "Hey, can we shumthin fun tomorrow?" Nick, Warrick, and Gil chuckled.

"Like what, Greg?" Grissom asked. The man next to him turned to look at Gil's 'When did he become Gil?' blue eyes. He smiled and nuzzled into Gil's arm.

"Sex."

Greg woke up with a crick in his neck. He groaned as he sat up on the couch. 'Wait – couch?' Greg opened his eyes to find that one – he was, in fact, on a couch, two – it wasn't his couch, and three – it wasn't even his house. Spying the coffee machine in the kitchen, he thought back to last night. It hit him, literally, when he stood up. 'Oh, right. I got roaring drunk. Hopefully, I didn't say or do anything stupid.'

Walking to the kitchen seemed to be a challenge, but Greg was determined to best it. It's just well, the walls were in his way. And the table. And the chairs. Greg made it to the counter, 'Finally,' and as soon as he was close enough, he out his head down. It hit the counter with a clunk. 'Ow.'

"Ow." Someone snorted behind him. Greg jumped and turned around. He was totally prepared to glare at the offender, but his head disagreed with him. Arms caught him as he stumbled. "I'd say thanks, Gris, but it's your entire fault anyway." Grissom laughed as he guided Greg back to the couch.

"Actually, I think it's Nicky's. What were you trying to do, Greg?" he asked, still chuckling.

"I was trying to make coffee."

"I think you would have just dropped it, anyway," a new voice said. Greg opened his eyes to see Warrick and Nick in the opening of the hallway. 'Oh, shit.' Nick stood with a towel around his waist, drops of water traveling down his chest, one arm drying his hair with another towel. Warrick had on a pair of boxers that didn't hide anything. 'Including that half-hard monster of his.' Greg didn't dare look at Grissom.

"I did something stupid last night, didn't I?" The three other men laughed. Warrick shook his head and headed into the kitchen.

"Want some aspirin, Greg?" he asked, but it didn't reach the younger man's ears. Greg's eyes were glued to Warrick's boxer-clad ass. Legs moved and the dark body turned around. Greg's eyes were drawn to the figure between those strong legs.

"Greg?" Grissom's commanding voice broke through the thick clouds in Greg's mind. Brown eyes blinked and focused on Gris.

"Huh?" he asked, and Grissom looked a little amused.

"Warrick asked if you wanted some aspirin." Greg looked at Warrick, who also looked amused. Greg nodded.

"Uh, sure."


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI 'DAMMIT!' Now that I've gotten that out, let's get on with the story.

CHAPTER TWO

It turned out that it was Gil's house that they were in. Which, Greg admitted, was very nice. It was big, and very spacious. It had three bedrooms: Gil's room, a guest room, and another Gil sort of used as an office. It made sense, of course, seeing as the guest room, and Gil's room both had bathrooms.

Though the guest room only had one bed, but when Greg asked Warrick and Nick both said they were comfortable enough with each other to sleep in the same bed. Besides they had been drunk and probably just collapsed into bed. Greg had apparently fallen on the floor as soon as he got through the door. And while he was glad Gil was sober/kind enough to set him on the couch, his neck protested vehemently.

The living room was a relaxing olive color. The room consisted of brown couches, a TV, a cassette and DVD player, six bookcases filled with books, and one with a bunch of DVDs. Greg would have never taken Gil for a DVD guy. The rug on the hardwood floor was soft and matched whole room well with its design of a great tree. The couch and its matching chairs were plushy and Greg swears that he just sank into it.

The kitchen was definitely masculine with the tan curtains and towels. It had light olive walls, the color just a shade lighter than in the living room. The counters were beech with charcoal granite counter tops, and the appliances were stainless steel. Gil was currently cooking breakfast on the stove, Nick was busy getting dressed, and Warrick was taking a shower.

Greg was sitting at the kitchen table waiting patiently for pancakes, eggs, and bacon. Well, come on, Gil was cooking. It's not everyday you see your boss cooking breakfast for you and two of your co-workers. Greg thought it was pretty amazing.

'Turns out the food is pretty amazing, too,' Greg thought as he chewed the glorious food in his mouth. He moaned and closed his eyes in pure bliss.

"You alright there, Greggo?" Nick asked as Warrick chuckled, finally in the kitchen and at the table. Gil had a small smile on his face, and his head was tilted slightly.

"I think I just had an orgasm in my mouth," Greg whispered. Warrick inclined his head.

"That does seem to sum it up, doesn't it?" he said looking at Nick. The Texan laughed under his breath and shook his head. "Yeah, I thought so."

Gil sighed, "It's just breakfast."

"I think I should come over for breakfast more often," Greg stated, "This is the best cooking in my whole entire life. Well, besides my Nana Olaf of course. Nobody's a better cook than her."

"You think so?" Nick asked a mischievous glint in his eye. Greg grinned, and leaned forward.

"I know so."

"Ah, but my padawan, you have much to learn. You should meet my mama. She could make the best beef stew, and than leave your taste buds flying with her triple layer chocolate cake." Greg was about to reply when he took a bite of a muffin. The youngest melted in his seat.

"Greg found the corn muffins," Warrick said, and Nick snickered. Greg moaned.

"This is the best Saturday ever."

+++++++++

Greg was in trouble.

'I don't know what I was thinking when I agreed to go to Bernie's with Nick, Warrick, and Gil last night.' The hangover had dissipated sometime after lunch, thanks to some water and some aspirin before to make sure he wouldn't throw up on Gil's "beautiful wood floors." And truly, Greg was glad. Aside from the homicide-inducing headache that he would have had (and did), Greg would have had to clean whatever uncleanliness he would have made. And breakfast was sooo nice, with orgasmic pancakes and to-die-for corn muffins. Apparently, everybody else liked it as well seeing as the food was the one thing they had found so far that would, Nick's words, "shut up Greg's non-stop chattering."

But something fishy was going on.

Greg would have sworn that this morning was strange with the way that Nick came down with only a towel around his hips, and Warrick followed in boxers that didn't leave room for any imagination on what was down there. But Greg must have said something last night, because his co-workers did stuff that made it sound like they were 'interested.'

Earlier Nick had dropped something and when he bent down Greg would have sworn that he saw him wiggle his ass, but this was Nick Stokes. He told everyone at work stories about some great ladies he had had dinner with the night before, and some . . . other things they did that evening.

Then Warrick had put in a few movies. Nothing wrong with movies mind you, but he put in Brokeback Mountain, Bedrooms and Hallways, My Own Private Idaho, and Velvet Goldmine 'Why does Gil even have these movies!' to name a few. Can you guess the theme?

And then Gil . . . . well, Greg wasn't even sure it was on purpose. Ah! It totally was! You didn't just walk by someone bent over the couch and brush your hand against their ass when you had five feet of available space to walk. And Greg was sure it was planned too, seeing as he was trying to get the remote Warrick had stolen from him just as Gil walked out of the kitchen.

And, oh! the delicious smells coming from the kitchen nearly made Greg melt in his shoes. Even thought they had breakfast two hours earlier, Greg didn't really care. Whatever Nick was cooking in the kitchen made his mouth water. Speaking of lunch . . .

"Come 'n' get it!" Nick shouted. Greg tried really hard not to run into the kitchen but guessing by the chuckles he heard from Warrick and Gil 'And why do I keep calling him that!' he didn't succeed. It wasn't like he was the only one, seeing as the other two both walked into the kitchen half a second later.

The table was a sight to behold. There were salads, rolls, a liquid in a big bowl that Greg identified as pumpkin soup when he smelled it, a ham with some sort of covering, garlic salmon, and cinnamon buns. Greg sat at the table and glanced at the food, not knowing where to start. He startled as a bowl was set in front of him. He looked up to meet Warrick's brown 'Oh god, they're gorgeous' eyes.

"Start with the soup, I think you'll like it," the older man said, sitting down and scooping some into a bowl for himself. Greg blinked.

"It's pumpkin. Of course I'll like it!" At that, Nick looked up from cutting the ham, a curious look on his face.

"How'd you know it's pumpkin?" he asked. Greg rolled his eyes.

"I did tell you that my Nana is the best cook in the entire universe, didn't I? It's my favorite and so she makes it every Thanksgiving. Besides, I can smell it from here." Nick smiled sheepishly as Greg started to give himself a bit of everything, taking the two pieces of ham that had just been cut. Greg jumped when a fork moved towards his plate and stabbed the ham. Warrick chuckled as Gil dropped the pieces of ham onto his own plate. Greg raised his eyebrows.

"Hey! You stole my ham!" he exclaimed. Gil calmly looked up at him.

"No, I believe I took my ham. It just happened to be sitting on your plate," he said. Pointing to the newly cut pieces of ham, he continued, "I believe your ham has just been cut." Greg gaped at his boss for a few seconds before regaining his sense of propriety. 'Hah, propriety, yeah. Gil totally just stole my ham!' He closed his jaw and glared at his laughing co-workers. 'Shut up! Unless you want to end up on Doc Robinson's cold steel autopsy table!' he thought to himself. Looking at his intense look of murder, Nick and Warrick looked down intently at their food. Greg, unfortunately, could still see the grins on their faces as well as their shaking shoulders. 'Ah, hell to propriety!' he thought, and promptly stuck his tongue out at them.

He ignored the interested looks that they gave him.

Greg took a spoonful of the soup and moaned. He sat back in his seat and raised his hands high into the air in victory.

"Best thing I've eaten all day!" he said as he brought his hands back down and picked up his spoon. He paused, eying Nick, who raised an eyebrow.

"Did Gil teach you the eyebrow thing?" Greg asked in curiosity. Nick bowed his head in laughter. "No, seriously! You did it perfectly! Well, not as good as the boss does, but it was almost as good." A thought struck him, and he turned to Warrick. "Hey, can you do the eyebrow thing?" Greg asked excitedly, bouncing in his seat. He was rewarded when Warrick rose his left eyebrow, and Greg whooped.

"That is so cool!" He turned to Gil who was shaking his head. "You know what I think?"

"Do we want to know?" Nick asked, and Greg threw a napkin at him.

"We should take a picture with all three of you doing the eyebrow thing! Wait- why are you looking at me like that? Hey, stop laughing! I'm being serious here!"

And that was how lunch went.

+++++++++

Afterwards, Greg was laying on the couch watching Pirates of The Caribbean. He rubbed his tummy where all the delicious food went. Even though he had exclaimed that the pumpkin soup was the best thing he had eaten all day, the ham, which had turned out to have pineapple-tasting gunk on it, was the most ultimate food of the whole week! There was pizza on Monday, BLT's on Tuesday, Greg made waffles on Wednesday using the waffle-maker his mother had given him for Christmas, tacos on Thursday, and on Friday he had a Boston creme donut before he went into work. 'Hmm, maybe I should go out -er, go drinking with the guys more often.' Greg was startled from his thoughts when someone's hands lifted up his feet and plopped on the couch. His feet were then promptly put on the person's lap.

"Watching Pirates of the Caribbean? Come on, that's so boring," Warrick moaned, and Greg snickered.

"Ya know, Warrick, I would never had taken you for a whiner." Nick chuckled as he sat down on the rug, leaning back into the couch. Gil than sat on the chair next to Warrick.

"You should see him when he's denied dark chocolate," Nick said. Greg laughed as Warrick stuck his tongue out at the Texan. The youngest male than tilted his head.

"What?" Warrick asked, seeing the head-tilt. Greg shook his head and Warrick lifted his co-worker's foot. Greg jerked as fingers brushed his ticklish limb. "If you don't tell me I'll tickle you to death," the black man threatened as he tickled the poor foot.

"Alright, alright!" Greg shouted, "I was thinking how good of a pirate you would be!" Warrick adopted an undignified look, and began tickling Greg's foot for real. Greg shrieked.

"Me? Me, a pirate! Do you know how insulting that sounds?" Warrick stopped tickling. "It's a good thing I like you, Sanders. Otherwise you'd be in real trouble."

"You know, Warrick, I think you would be an awesome pirate," Nick commented from where he was sitting on the ground. Gil made a noise in agreement.

"I could see it, eyepatch, sword, old shirt and vest with some ripped pants," Gil said, eyeing Warrick, "And you are a good gambler."

"Oooh! We have to get you a costume!" Greg squealed, than blushed in embaressment.

"Did you just squeak?" Warrick snickered. He grunted when Greg kicked him.

"Shut up!" he shouted at his laughing friends. "It just happens sometimes!" Greg hmphed, and, crossing his arms, turned to the TV.

"Aw, Greg, don't be like that," Nick whined. Greg kept his eyes on the screen and gave him 'the hand.'

"Oooh, look Nick, you got the hand," Warrick teased. Greg could imagine his eyes crinkling around the edges as he grinned.

"Oh dear! Whatever shall I do!"

Greg didn't dignify that with a comment. Instead, he watched as Captain 'Can't forget the Captain' Jack Sparrow jumped off of the ship to save Elizabeth from where she had fallen off the cliffs. Greg mentally cheered 'Go! Go!' as he heard a scuffle to his left. Footsteps, he surmised.

He was suddenly surprised when a carton of dark chocolate ice cream was shoved in his face. Finally looking up, Greg saw Nick holding strawberries, spoons, and whipped cream as well. He suspiciously eyed Nick as the Texan gave a little, sheepish smile.

"Want some cream?"

Greg's eyes widened until they were the size of saucers, and Nick grinned.

"Oh my god!" he shouted, sitting up. He pointed his finger at the three of them. "You, you - you were flirting with me! The ass wiggle, the movies, the- the brushing of the fingers!" None of them denied it; instead, they were all wearing mischievous smiles.

"You missed Nick giving head to a spoon, me rubbing the back of your neck while watching Brokeback Mountain, and Gil feeling you up as he set ya on the couch last night. Though, you weren't really awake for that last one," Warrick replied, and Greg blinked. His thoughts were in chaos, but one thing stood out.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait! Me and Gil had wondrous touchy moments and I wasn't awake for it! Totally unfair!" Gil rose an eyebrow, and spoke in a low, seductive voice.

"Would you like to have more 'wondrous touchy moments,' Greg?"


End file.
